


Bundled-Up Nerves

by veil_nebula



Series: A Series of Teachers-Friends tropes. [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Arguing, Flirting, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9519806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veil_nebula/pseuds/veil_nebula
Summary: When Stiles unfairly yells at a student, Derek calls him out on it.





	

'Gee, Stilinski, you kinda lashed out on the kid,' Derek whistles as the last student steps out of the room. 

'What?' 

'I mean, you didn't have to tell him all..that,' he shrugs, looking away. 'Sure, he was disrespectful and you were right to call him out on it, but I've never seen you so aggressive before.' 

'Oh, come on, this guy's not gonna make it to finals, it's written all over his face!' Stiles snorts, shoulders tense, busying himself with sorting out papers. 

'Yeah, but you're not exactly supposed to tell them like that!' The other exclaims in mild disbelief. 'You should talk to him, cause you were out of line,' Derek stated, raising his eyebrows. Stiles sensed the reproach in the man's voice. He snapped. 

'Go apologize? Who the hell do you take me for? He wants to make it, he has to fucking study. It's his problem if he can't handle it.' Stiles' tone was final. 

'Such bullshit! What's gotten into you?!' Hale raises his voice, annoyance boiling into anger. 

'Oh _please_ , get off my back, _Dad_.' 

'Know what? I'm done. Fuck you, Stiles, you're a dick,' he says, lowering his voice. 'Grow the fuck up.' 

Derek storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving a grumbling young man behind him. He thinks he hears something being thrown at a wall but he pays no attention to it.

###### 

Derek is woken up from his power nap on his kitchen table by loud buzzing. _The door bell? It's 11 fucking pm!_ He considers not answering for a moment but the person behind the door seems persistent, so he reluctantly gets up. It's no big surprise when Stiles is standing on the front porch, although he expected a delay of a day or two, not four hours. Derek wants to slam the door in his face, still pissed and kind of offended, but the guilty look twisting the other's features changes his mind. He invites him in. Silence settles in, heavy and smothering. 

'Something you wanted to tell me?' Derek teases, face deadly serious, but the prat deserves it. The look that question earns him tells him it has the expected effect on Stiles. 

'I'm...sorry.' 

'For?'

'Doing such a pitiful job at being a friend and a teacher, getting my anger out on others, saying all that really mean stuff. I didn't mean it.' Stiles looks down at his feet and Derek almost melts at the sight, how small he seems, how vulnerable. 

'I could've settled with 'being a dick' but that's better. The dad accepts your apology.' He smiles, earning a chuckle. He presses his hand on Stiles' shoulder, lowering his head to catch his eyes. 'Can I have my answer, now? What's going on?' He inquires, his tone softer than earlier. 

'Nothing,' he says but continues when Derek raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. 'I haven't slept in days, okay? Too much work, pressure that built up, plus my brother who told me he couldn't come tomorrow for my dad's birthday so he's leaving me alone with the monster, I mean. Bad timing for everything. And then this kid comes up not even remotely worried about not knowing one little thing. Tipped me off.' 

'Gotcha.' Derek chuckles, understanding. 'Wanna stay for the night? Cause I hear there's a storm and you only have two wheels.' 

Stiles hesitates, eventually giving in when Derek mentions 'food'.

###### 

It's soon one in the morning and neither of them notice. They're sitting on the couch, watching some terrible comedy show with those prerecorded, corny laughs. There's a bowl of popcorn and crisps between them, and if sometimes their hands brush when they pick some up, Derek pretends he doesn't notice.

'Ever had a massage?'

Stiles snaps his head around, eyes half closed, suspicious, as if unsure he had heard right. 

'Like a real one. I hear I'm pretty good at them. Would it loosen you up?' The more Derek talks the more stupid he feels but he's in too deep now. 

'Yeah, I guess,' Stiles shrugs, not out of discomfort but anticipation. Although he does his best not to let that show. 

'Okay, cool. Lie down on your front on the sofa, I'll be right back,' he orders as he gets up from the couch to go to the bathroom. 'Shirt off!' He shouts from across the room. Stiles does as he's told, not without the pinch of self-consciousness tightening his chest. He hears Derek come back and feels a dip on the side of the couch. There's a pause. 

'Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?' He asks, and there's really nothing to his question but somehow, whether Stiles can hear it in the tone of the man's voice or his suddenly louder breaths, he knows there's an underlying meaning. He nods and let's Derek sit across on his thighs. He thinks the first touch is never gonna come but it does, and it's-- _cold_! He shivers. 

'It's the oil, it'll heat up,' Derek reassures. He drags his hands up Stiles' back to his shoulders and presses his fingers more firmly as he goes downwards, tracing the line of muscles sculpting the man's backbone. The young man lets out a whimper when Derek palms the small of his back, feeling an incredible blush rise up. 

'That okay?' he asks, his voice almost a whisper. Stiles can only hum. Derek works the magic of his fingertips along every bone, every tense spot until Stiles is almost writhing beneath him, trying to follow his movements and occasionally gasping shamelessly. When he feels hands cup his neck, Stiles raises his arms to grip the armrest of the couch, knuckles turning white. Derek inhales sharply, pupils blown wide as he brings his hands up to cover Stiles', lowering his chest until it almost connects with the man's back and his mouth is inches from Stiles' jaw. He feels Derek arch his back, adding to the straining pressure in his own jeans. Derek can't help but breathe out a 'fuck' when the creature beneath him moans lowly.

He straightens up, running a hand through his hair. 'I think you're relaxed,' he chuckles, doing his best to forget about what's happening between his legs at the moment. Stiles hums, stretching. He turns his head around, catching Derek's desperate gaze. 'Your turn?'

**Author's Note:**

> hoped you enjoyed it!please leave a comment :)


End file.
